


Our Day

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 19:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Nyx and Noctis share a birthday, and Noctis has the perfect restaurant to treat Nyx to.





	Our Day

August in Altissia was an odd time of year. A strange period of limbo balanced between the seasons, the summer festival lights, the warmth of the late evenings and glowing sunsets were slowly being shooed away in favour of a more golden hue to the world. The leaves of the carefully cultivated and cared for trees on the streets and in the plazas started to gain a touch of warm colouring as the vibrant greens faded with the light; the flowers that seemed to gather everywhere started to shift from the vibrant, lively saturation of summer to the the more somber accents of autumn. But only a touch to start with, as the day started later, and the sun set earlier over the waters, the changes were only subtle hints at what was to come, carried on the cooling waters lapping at the sun-warmed stones. 

Nyx had been more familiar with northern waters— even his own homeland in the southern islands of Galahd had a hint of cold this time of year. The promise of the coming winter that would colour the green seas grey, and the ice that would move in in the northern coasts. He knew what the late summer chills were in the mountains, when the glacial peaks were already threatening the valleys and canyons with the lightest snows, the long buried ruins of a lost civilization having longer stretches of dusk to pulse its eerie red beat across the forest floor. 

But Alstissia was a different world from Galahd. There was no thick, wild canopy of leaves to offer cool shade at the last summer heatwave, carried over the waters and trapped by the cascades that walled the beautiful city in. The waters and sky remained the same heated blues, the lost depths still clear between bouts of warm summer showers splashing against the plazas. The festival lights still lined the streets and canals, accenting the colourful banners the city had draped along bridges and lampposts; a wondrous glow against the waters, crossing the narrow canals in strands and streamers as the festivities refused to slow down. 

Every week in Altissia was a new holiday in the summer. And summer’s end, that tiny window of time where the seasons balanced together on a precipice, was its own holiday to be celebrated. 

Back in Insomnia, it would be a week of celebration, to an extent. The birthday of the Crown Prince the official end to the season, and the announcement of the next. There would be gatherings at the Citadel and gifts to the Prince’s charities. There would be stores taking the excuse to plan sales and draw in new shoppers while some business ground to a halt for a long weekend or a midweek break. The streets would be lined with signs of good wishes and Noctis’ entire life displayed through shows and specials and all manner of detail presented to those who otherwise ignored the royal family. 

At least in Altissia, the most attention Noctis had drawn was a headline that he was in town. A simple card on the nightstand of their rood with a small bowl of delicate sweets had been the only acknowledgement so far that there was any event at all in the Lucian Prince’s life.

Nyx found that he had preferred this quiet approach. 

“Are you ready?”

“You’re sure this isn’t some fancy place?”

“Bistros aren’t fancy, hero. Iggy said so.”

Nyx had wanted to make the plans this time. He had intended to make reservations at one of the fancier restaurants in the main plaza. He had booked event tickets and dinners and had tried to steal the reservation Noctis had already made for the hotel. They had competed for the day— nearly the last day of the month, when they shared a birthday and their competitive natures demanded they try to out do each other in their gifts of affection. 

Noctis won the morning and lunch. The night was all to Nyx. 

The restaurant would have their table ready, the little surprise he had smuggled from Lucis to Accordo by Nyx’s clever backing and plentiful excuses to slip away and prepare. There were tickets to a tour of the canals, a fishing excursion planned out in one of the little villages that dotted the seaside hills before they left. Nyx had stolen moments here and there since they arrived early in the week; he charmed his way to the Maagho, where a private wine tasting was organized (he found out later that Regis had a hand in ensuring that went off without a hitch, a letter sent before they even left Insomnia to plead his case to an old friend). He had managed a detour in a rented boat to chase fish lurking in the shadows of the spits of land just outside of the city gates. 

Though Noctis had won the hotel, and this not-quite-lunch at a small bistro Nyx was wary of. Nyx still counted this birthday vacation a victory.

“Nothing in Altissia isn’t fancy.” 

“What about that coffee shop yesterday?”

“They called me ‘sir’,” Nyx grinned at the unimpressed reaction the reasoning had earned him; a small nod and wave offered to the friendly concierge holding the door for them as they made their way out to join the rest of the tourists and citizens enjoying the city. “Any place that calls me ‘sir’ is automatically fancy.”

“What about Galahd?” Nyx caught Noctis’ hand and pulled him closer before the Prince could wander too far; the simple act of wandering the city hand in hand having been his gift to himself. “What would they call you there?”

“Trouble.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

They had taken the same routes for most of their week there. They had paused at fountains and statues, Noctis enthralled by the silver flashes of fish in the canals. Nyx had admired the depictions of the Tidemother, entranced in the rain as the water collected and redirected to the waterways— curtains of spouts obscuring the grey buildings. They had taken their time to wander the flower-lined walkways, across bridges and past flower carts, where Nyx considered the strange plants that had no business thriving in a city built on the sea. 

Now though, Noctis took the lead. They turned from the familiar paths, where the cobblestones glistened with the spray of the passing boats. There were stairs up and across the layers of the city, returning them to the lower levels as they passed shops and restaurants, and the sun climbed higher above them. There were twists and turns along the route, drawn out across a scenic labyrinth when a gondola would have delivered them earlier. 

“Remember our deal, little king,” Nyx smiled around a sugary cone filled with tart gelato he had picked up along the way in a moment Noctis had taken to re-orient himself. “I get the afternoon.”

“It’s only eleven.”

“Are we even close to this bistro you wanted to go to? There were about thirty back there.”

“It’s my birthday and I want to go to a specific one.”

“Fine, fine.”

The plazas further from the commercial heart of Altissia were larger than Nyx would have expected. Apartments were built over small neighbourhood shops and restaurants; bakeries and grocers all boasting sales and freshness while their open doors welcomed the traffic from the streets. Breads and roasts wafted out to draw the clients in, and Nyx had almost stopped a handful of times to admire a display here, or a sampling there— the promise of treats and sandwiches and local specialities reminding him that he had skipped breakfast when the excursion started. He wanted to stop and do more than just admire the abundance of mouth watering offerings of fish and meat and breads begging for his attention. 

His stomach grumbled its own rebellious dissatisfaction with Noctis’ choice of distant food, and he opened his mouth to say as much. But the smell hit him first. Among the bounty of the imported fruits, the fresh meals, the fragrant flowers, and the salty taste of the ocean so close at hand, Nyx caught a scent of home and stopped. He searched the plaza for it— the hint of spices cultivated from wild Galahdian gardens, the savoury temptations of rich meats not featured in any Altissian or Lucian main course, the heat that came with the mixture of both, dashed together on the wayward breezes flowing through the city. All he could see around him was the same promise of salads and fish and light meats; the bakeries brimming with sweets and steaming breads, the carts that lined the plaza’s shore overflowing in creamy delights and gelatos of every colour. There was no evidence of spice beyond a touch of cinnamon or nutmeg, and yet here (if he stood just right) he could practically taste the rich soup and feel the burn of a mix he could make with his eyes closed. 

Noctis was grinning, and Nyx refused to admit that his victory over the vacation may be in jeopardy. He focused on his lover, ignoring the temptation to seek out a more familiar flavour. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost.”

Noctis took his hand again, the napkin from the gelato treat discarded in a bin as they turned from the open plaza to a narrow alley. The apartments overhead closed around the small passage Noctis had selected, and Nyx wondered if he had merely caught the scent of a domestic kitchen— a home cooked meal lovingly slaved over for the change of seasons, the rich foods offered only to family and friends, but carried on the breezes through open windows. He wanted to whine at the thought, and his stomach protested the loss of a familiar meal. 

The passageway opened to another plaza on the other side of the landing— the opposite of where they had been and existing in almost a perfect mirror. Except for the bistro. 

The little patio was raised on a wooden deck, level with the wide doors thrown open to the streets, just as every other business seemed to be. Unlike an Altissian bistro, there was no placard with the day’s specials set on display for potential customers, and no menu of offerings presented up to help draw people in. Instead, the open doors were enough. The tables busy as waiters bustled between them as if they were dancing— the familiar steps mesmerizing Nyx for a moment as he felt removed from the city of culture and stone, and transported back to his little hometown more than half a world away. 

“This is it.” Noctis was still grinning, and Nyx could kiss him for the surprise of it.

The little restaurant was as lively as any other in the city— the tables arranged to capitalize more on the intimacy of the guests than the scenery of the plaza, two of the patio’s sides were walled higher than the rest, leafy plants and vibrant flowers spilling over to create the illusion of a private deck closed off against the wilds rather than the Altissian plaza. The waiters were all dressed in their street clothes, bills and notepads peeking from the deep pockets of the branded aprons they wore as a uniform— and Nyx remembered the same style from the bars back home, though his had never gotten big enough to have the same. 

And he saw what had drawn Noctis to this place. 

Carbuncle was a grey streak above the door; from outstretched front paws to the delicate curl of the tail, the fairytale Astral was caught mid-leap beneath the bistro’s name. The name spelt out in a red script, reflective in the afternoon sun, attached to the rest of the sight by a delicate point of light from the iconic ruby horn.

“Of course,” Nyx muttered as he followed Noctis up to the main entrance. Despite the relaxed atmosphere, there was still a host to seat them, to smile and guide them through the little restaurant itself and to a table near the back, where the wooden walls opened up to show off the bustle of the kitchen. 

The walls of the seating area were lifted right from the establishments and sensibilities of Galahd, and Nyx could see why as he watched a Galahdian chef commanding the kitchen like it was his own personal battlefield. The shouts were lifted over the grills, the clatter of pans and cutlery drowning out the orders and demands as the man moved from one section to another, glaring at the skilled younger cooks in his team and sampling their offerings before it was so much as sniffed by a guest. Nyx grinned as he watched it, as he remembered the kitchens back home, and his heart ached for a moment of nostalgia. The host ducked through the chaos of the kitchen to speak with the chef, who only nodded at whatever it was she had managed to mutter beneath the cacophony of cooking. The chef nodded, and returned to his duties while the host returned to hers. 

It was only a moment before the chef left his station and came to greet them. There was no bow or formal acknowledgement of station, no scraping or searching for favour as they had done in other establishments across the city. Instead, the chef looked them over and offered a smile; “Welcome, Highness. I’m going to make you something that will put this one’s cooking to shame.”

Nyx blinked in surprise and Noctis smiled, “How do you know Nyx cooks?”

“He’s got the marks for it, Highness. Doesn’t look like he can handle much spice though. Southern islands like their mild flavours.”

Noctis glanced over, and Nyx couldn’t help but grin at the look of concern at the potential insult; “And the northern islands think can’t hold their drinks. Please tell me you at least have the good stuff from a proper southern brewery.”

“You got me there,” the chef’s smile was impossibly bright, and Nyx realized the gift for what it was; “Sit tight, your food is up next.”

“It takes how long it takes,” Nyx said in response, reaching across the table to squeeze Noctis’ hand in thanks. 

He would get to watch this chef, having cut out a sliver of home in an alien country, cook for another Galahdian. Not a tourist there just to prove they could afford the luxury, the honour, of watching a chef work. There was no need to place an order from a menu here; a true Galahdian show of hospitality was to come. Nyx was enthralled by the rush of activity as soon as the chef re-entered the space he commanded, the cooks snapping to attention, pushing their offerings forward in clouds of steam released from boiling pots. He almost missed the bowl of long, thin green beans salted and seasoned in garlic. 

He hadn’t missed the face Noctis made at the light starting dish. The promise of weightier, meat and spices saturating the air around them. 

“You go to all this trouble for a birthday lunch and you won’t try it?”

“I can wait for the main course, hero.”

“Your loss, little star.” 

It was said with a grin as Nyx picked at the starter, memories of an easier time back in Galahd chasing each taste. The nostalgia bit deep, hurried by the rush of flare from the kitchen, the familiar chatter of his countrymen who had eked out a life so far away from the wild greens of the islands. But the main courses arrived with a flourish, the chef offering his own knowing smile as the plates were delivered by the assistants that had scrambled around him to put them together. Nyx smirked as he recognized the dish itself; the offering of piled spiced meats, the sauces, the skewers alternating light and dark meats, and the cloud of flavour that hung around the table. He grinned as the world fell away around them, and he shifted closer in the open booth, guiding Noctis to test one combination, then another, until they had settled on one the Prince could enjoy. 

“You know, Noct,” Nyx said between mouthfuls of juicy grilled meats, plucked from skewers and doused in sauces; “this is going to make my birthday dinner for you completely boring an unoriginal.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to spice it up.”

Nyx thought back to the little gift waiting for them at his reserved restaurant. The little trinket he had spent months trying to perfect and master, and relied on different hands to create his vision for it. He thought of the simple dinner planned around it, and smiled. “I’ll find a way to make your birthday memorable, little star.”

“Our birthday.”

“Our birthday,” Nyx agreed.


End file.
